Be Careful
62: How Much You Learn
By Anne B. Walsh
“Neville! Over here!”
Neville hurried down platform nine and three-quarters towards Ginny, who was waving at him urgently. Her parents were standing behind her, Mr. Weasley looking tired but relieved, Mrs. Weasley red-eyed but smiling. He nodded to them politely and took the slip of parchment Ginny thrust into his hand.
The date and time scribbled at the top meant nothing to him, but the cryptic words underneath, as well as the familiar handwriting, got his full attention.
I got over it. Close call Christmas Eve but all well and making progress. Take care.
“Nice of your brother to write to you,” Neville said as calmly as he could manage, handing Ginny back Ron’s note.
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” Ginny’s eyes glowed with the jubilation she didn’t dare show any other way. “He forgets so often, it’s good that he remembered for once. And it was very thoughtful of him to tell us his friends are doing well.”
To tell us they’re alive, Neville had no trouble interpreting. To tell us they’re still out there fighting, that they’re doing whatever they have to do to win the war. To tell us they’re thinking of us.
To tell us they’ll come back when it’s time.
“There’s also who he sent it by,” said Mrs. Weasley, just as the whistle blew. “But Ginny can tell you that—hurry, get aboard—”
“Be careful this term,” Mr. Weasley added quietly. “They’re looking for excuses to hurt you. Don’t give them any.”
Ginny hugged her parents, Neville shook their hands, and the two scrambled onto the train, Ginny’s trunk held between them, just as it began to move.
“I’m down a couple cars from here,” said Neville, pointing with his head. “Got a compartment to myself. Come in with me?”
“Yes, please.” Ginny shifted her grip on the trunk and drew her wand. “Here, I’m allowed to do this again now. Wingardium Leviosa.”
Neville sighed in relief and let go of the handle as the trunk floated up to knee-height. “This way,” he said, opening the door to the next car. “And then you can tell me who brought you that note.”
To pass the time until his quarry came into range, Draco was doing agility training with his new hand. Of course, to any passerby, it would have looked as though he was playing with the Galleon he’d got from his Aunt Bella’s Gringotts vault, the same way he’d done all through the latter half of the fall term.
And I don’t intend to let anyone close enough to see that it’s not the same one.
Or rather, I only intend to let a couple people see.
The ones who need to know.
He balanced Luna’s DA Galleon on his left thumb and flicked it into the air, catching the fake coin in his fake palm with a satisfying Thwup. It reminded him of the sound made by the spell he’d left active in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor.
Not even to keep my cover going was I about to leave Luna there without me. And she wasn’t too keen on the idea of staying behind either. Draco flipped the coin again, fancying he could see a familiar face in its glittering gyrations. Neenie and her amazing powers of logic to the rescue...
“You have to think like a Death Eater,” Neenie explained, her hands turning pages in the large book on her lap apparently independent of her eyes or mind. “They wanted Luna so that her dad would stop writing articles about supporting Harry—right, Luna?”
Luna nodded. “They were quite rude when they first took me, but that was just what they do to everyone,” she said. “It wasn’t personal.”
“So now your dad’s gone into hiding.” Neenie glanced down at the book and kept flipping. “They can’t pressure him anymore, but they have what they wanted. The Quibbler is silenced. They aren’t going to let you go, but as long as your dad keeps his head down they won’t have any use for you either. Which means they’ll leave you alone.”
“Unless one of them decides he can take her for some fun,” said Draco darkly. “I’m not risking that.”
“You won’t have to. Here.” The book was rotated to face Draco and Luna. “A Spell to Produce the Illusion of a Presence in an Otherwise Empty Room. If you cast this over your bedroom, there’ll be footsteps pacing back and forth, the toilet will flush a couple times a day, you could even throw in a little crying if you thought it was necessary. And Fred and George sell a Food-Vanishing Plate for disgusting family dinners, I’m sure you can swap it in for whatever they’ll be using to feed her. As long as you make it clear she’s yours and not to be bothered, they won’t ever check on her, because where else could she be?”
Draco frowned. “I’m still missing a step here. Where else is she going to be?”
Both girls burst into laughter. Draco folded his arms and waited it out.
“I’ll be at Hogwarts,” said Luna when she had caught her breath. “I have to get my education, you know.”
“What do you mean you’ll be at—oh.”
“Yes, at ‘oh,’” Neenie said, still giggling. “If ‘oh’ means our Hogwarts. There’s plenty of room in Ravenclaw Tower, and we can go to Diagon Alley any time after the New Year.”
“I should have thought of that.” Draco shook his head. “Are we sure it’s only my arm I lost and not my brain?”
“You mean you had a brain?” Neenie affected shock, and Luna laughed again.
“I get no respect,” Draco muttered.
Neenie drew herself up. “That,” she said with dignity, “is because respect has to be earned.”
But for all her joking around, she does respect me. They all do. Draco rubbed the invisible join between the ferecarne and his own skin ruefully. I could wish it was for something other than this, but that’s life.
And really, it isn’t for this at all—it’s for my coming back after that happened. For my being willing to go on.
For that, I think I may even respect myself.
What a novel idea.
The far door of the car opened. Draco resumed playing with his Galleon, pretending not to see who was coming.
“Do you mind?” said Ginny Weasley, her tone the icy calm that only strangled rage could produce.
“Mind what?” Draco looked up. “Oh, hello, Weaslette. Longbottom. Have a nice holiday?” He flipped the Galleon again. Neville’s and Ginny’s eyes followed its path through the air. “Mine was full of surprises. How about yours?”
“Over,” said Neville flatly. “Now if you wouldn’t mind moving, we’re trying to get to our compartment.”
“Oh, so sorry.” Draco stepped aside, tossing the Galleon yet again. “Let me just—oops.” He missed his catch, and the coin clattered to the floor at Ginny’s feet. Automatically, she stooped to pick it up.
Perfect. Now just let her notice...
Ginny stiffened, then shot upright. “Where did you get this?” she demanded, holding up the Galleon in a clutch so fierce her knuckles had turned white. “Who did you take it from?”
“That’s a rather loaded question, isn’t it?” Draco leaned comfortably against the wall. “As it happens, it was a gift. And I’ll have it back now.” He held out his hand.
Ginny closed her own hand over the coin. “No, you won’t,” she said coldly. “There’s no way this could have been a gift, Malfoy. You stole it.”
“So you’re going to steal it back from me? Two wrongs make a right? I don’t think so, Weaslette. Give it here.” Draco was enjoying himself; the hardest part of the conversation so far was keeping a straight face.
I’ve finally found what I was born for. Being a pureblood bastard, but with a purpose.
“Why not see if you can make it through your first day back without a detention?” he added for good measure. “Even Potter could usually manage that much.”
Neville caught Ginny’s eye and nodded towards Draco. She growled under her breath, then slapped the coin into his hand unnecessarily hard. “You keep your filthy mouth off Harry,” she hissed. “He’ll be back soon enough, and when he is...”
“He’ll defeat the Dark Lord and there will be much rejoicing,” Draco finished in a bored tone. “And we’ll all live happily ever after—oh, wait, not me, I’m on the wrong side. But you will.” He flipped the Galleon one last time, caught it in the air, and tucked it away in his pocket. “If you survive that long.”
“Is that a threat, Malfoy?” Neville said, interposing himself between Draco and Ginny, who had bristled at Draco’s last phrase.
“Call it a warning.” Draco brushed an invisible piece of lint from the shoulder of his robes. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting tired of seeing you in Dark Arts. If you have to pick a fight with someone this term, pick it with Snape. Give him something to do thinking up new punishments for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a seat and a book with my name on them.”
And with a small bow, Draco slipped between the staring Neville and the open-mouthed Ginny and was on his way down the corridor.
I hope you were listening, he thought back towards the two Gryffindors. Sooner or later, even the Carrows are going to realize they need to get rid of you permanently. And killing you is probably the nicest way they could do that. I don’t want to think about some of the others.
Of course, if what Luna helped me work out comes off, there’ll only be one of you left for me to worry about. His mind supplied the flickering images of the TVP, projected onto the wall of the room at Fidelus Manor that his friends had made their own for the holidays. So clever of her to suggest we have a look back in time, to make sure we knew the whole story before we went on...
“I am going to kill him,” Ginny snarled when she and Neville were alone in the compartment. “I want him dead.”
“Why?” Neville asked, finishing the Imperturbable Charm he was setting on the door.
“He’s messing with people’s lives, Neville. This—” Ginny flourished Ron’s note. “—Luna’s dad brought it to us! Saying Harry and Ron and Hermione had come to his house with a letter from Luna, a letter that said she was safe!”
“So maybe she’s safe,” Neville suggested, sitting down. “She sent that same message from her Galleon the first day of holidays, remember?”
“Yes, well, there’s only one problem with that.” Ginny’s hands tightened into fists. “We can’t see who’s sending the messages on the Galleon; we have to take it on trust that they’re from the person they say they are. And that was her Galleon Malfoy was playing with, out in the hall. Just like he’s playing with us. Giving us advice, pretending to care if we get hurt...” She shut her eyes and leaned against the back of the seat. “I wish it was over,” she said indistinctly. “I don’t care how anymore, I just want it to be over.”
Neville swallowed hard. If even Ginny was losing faith, things were not going to be easy this term.
And they were hard enough in the fall.
“It was good advice, though,” he said, hoping this would be a neutral enough topic of conversation. “The Carrows like watching people bleed, but Snape doesn’t seem to want to hurt us, just humiliate us. What can we do that only he could deal with?”
Ginny shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Break into his office again?”
“That would work.” Neville dug through his pockets until he found a small scroll and a quill. “Let’s see if we can’t think of a way to get the password before the lunch cart comes around.”
Watching her friends in the TVP, Luna smiled. “That’s right,” she murmured, sharing a smile with Ginny as the latter speeded up the scene to one and a half times. “You need to get inside the Head’s office. And once you’re there, you need to steal something. It should be easy to carry, but very important, and it should belong to the school so much that only the Headmaster himself can properly punish you for stealing it...”
This seems like a good chapter breakpoint and it’s quite late, so I shall post it and write another tomorrow, in between working on the current chapter of Facing Danger. Bonus points to anyone who works out what Luna wants them to steal and why!